


spinning red

by PillowLord



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 22:09:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17252279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PillowLord/pseuds/PillowLord
Summary: Connor would rather not be here. He would rather be at home. Where Hank would have his arms around him. Cole would be pressed against his side as he read aloud a bedtime story and Sumo atop his legs. He shakes himself from the fantasy. He is not entitled a place in Hank’s home. He does not deserve it. But. He would like one, very much so.





	spinning red

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flan/gifts).



> For flannysart in the HankConBB2019 Christmas Exchange!!

If there is one word that describes the ballroom, it is obnoxious. It overflows with careless opulence. There is a subtle golden glow to everything. The chandelier crystals hang at various lengths and glimmer iridescent light. Marble statues decorate the space. Delicate and intricate tapestries drape the walls. Each piece a show of wealth and bad taste.

Connor would rather not be here. He would rather be at home. Where Hank would have his arms around him. Cole would be pressed against his side as he read aloud a bedtime story and Sumo atop his legs. He shakes himself from the fantasy. He is not entitled a place in Hank’s home. He does not deserve it. But. He would like one, very much so.

He sighs. Might as well make the event worth going to. He knows North brought Hank as a friend for her plus one. But, if he has to suffer, at least he has company. Connor scans the room, looking for the familiar figure. He spots North first. She is in conversation with Lucy and John. No Hank. He continues his search on his own, not wanting to bother North. He finds Hank hiding in the shadows at the edges, melding to the walls. Recognizable to Connor despite the mask. Hank’s mask is seemingly a simple one that covers half of his face. It has swirls of orange and white and outlined in blue. Hank had tied his hair. The ribbon, too, is blue.

Connor wishes he brought his coin, but Markus explicitly asked (told) him not to. He rubs at his hands instead. Taking a deep breath, he strides across the room to where Hank sits.

Hank tugs at his own mask. “Knew it was me, huh?”

“I would always know you.” Connor offers his hand with a flourish, “May I have this dance?”

“Shouldn’t you be dancing with Markus?” To keep up appearances went unsaid.

“I don’t have to dance with him all night,” Connor rolls his eyes. “Otherwise it will be too boring.”

“It won’t be boring with the right partner.” Hank flushes at his own forwardness.

Connor snorts. Hank finally accepts his hand as he gets up from his seat. Connor has to raise his chin a bit to look Hank in the eyes. It is not an often occurrence, being with someone who is taller than him. Hank looms over him, his shoulders broad, his suit emphasizing his... bigness. Connor gulps. Hank is an impressive figure in his suit, more so when he stands straight and tall.

He takes Hank to the center of the dance floor and places a hand at his hip and another at his shoulder. Hank does the same. Through the layers of clothing, Connor can feel the subtle weight of Hank’s hands. His skin warms at the feeling. He turns his gaze away from Hank, staring at the hardwood floor.

Despite his earlier bravado, Connor doesn’t actually know how to dance. His dance with Markus was more awkward shuffling than anything.

The whole situation is quite uncomfortable. He hopes the lie will end soon. Connor regrets ever agreeing to help Markus. Markus is good at talking. Why couldn’t he just reject John politely? Or Simon or Josh are better suited for the role of fake significant other. Ignoring the whole, they’re dating each other thing. It’s not like John knows. Hell, even North can be more believable. Markus knows Connor can’t carry a long-term lie convincingly. He can’t do anything right.

As if sensing his reluctance, Hank leans close to his ear, and whispers “Follow my lead.” 

His eyes meets Hank’s. Connor nods. 

He carefully matches each of Hank’s steps. His hesitance melts away as he gains more confidence with each move, with each turn that they make.

He smiles. “You’re right. It’s not so bad - with the right partner.”

“See there’s nothing to it.” Hank returns his smile, a rare and precious thing that is usually not directed towards him. His smile is a gift he gives freely to Cole, not for someone like Connor. A pathetic failure who is bad at everything. Connor aches at the sight of it. He does not deserve it. He tries not to falter. In his steps, in his own smile.

Being with Hank is an exercise of avoiding temptation. He wants to memorize every detail of this moment. He wants to rest his head on Hank’s shoulder. He wants to take the mask off Hank. He wants to pull the ribbon loose and run his fingers through Hank’s hair. He wants to pull him close. He wants to bury himself in Hank. He wants to kiss Hank. He wants a relationship. A home. He wants so much.

As the song draws to a close, Connor disengages from Hank. He pulls at his shirt sleeves and attempts to straighten his coat. “Thank you for the dance.” 

Hank does not step back. His hand returns to rest on Connor’s hip. Hank traces the edges of Connor’s mask with a fingertip. Connor shivers at the feather light touch.

He doesn’t intend to mess up. But Connor does not know what it means anymore. To disappoint Markus and unravel his façade? To reject Hank and lose his friendship? His priorities are screwed. He cares more about Hank than Markus’ plans. 

Making a decision, he grabs Hank’s wrist. “Not now,” he mutters, “not here.”

Connor can barely look up from the floor. He guides Hank out of the ballroom, his grip on Hank never loosening. He tries to hide their movement through the anonymous crowd. Fortunately, in this case, he is somewhat familiar of the layout of the building. He navigates the halls with long-practiced ease.

He finally settles at a quiet nook on the rooftop garden. Hank sits down beside him on the bench. He puts his hand on Hank’s. Neither of them gazes to the scenic night sky, their focus only on each other. Their legs are tangled. Connor moves forward, Hank meeting him halfway. Their noses bump. Hank laughs. Connor hides his face in Hank’s shoulder. His hands clutch at the lapels of Hank’s jacket. Hank kisses Connor’s temple.

“This okay?” Hank asks, his words soft, as he runs his fingers through Connor’s hair. 

Connor bobs his head despite the position. His voice comes out muffled. “I wish we can be together.” 

“We will be.” Hank clasps the back of Connor’s neck, his other arm wrapping around Connor’s shoulder. 

The promise echoes in his head. Soon.


End file.
